Diamonds and Dreams (2 page)

Her gaze moved from the horizon to a nearby
shrub. “I wonder what kind of bush that is, Big? We don’t have that
kind in America.”

Big’s eyes narrowed. “Goldie, you’re
hedging.”

She laughed. “Oh, Big, how funny! I saw that
shrub, wondered what kind of bush it was, and then you said I was
hedgin’
. Did you mean to make a joke, or was it just one of
those lucky things?”

Big won the battle not to smile. He knew if
Goldie saw him grin, she’d feel less pressured to tell him about
her outrageous plan. He realized also that whatever that scheme
was, he wasn’t going to like it. Otherwise, Goldie would have told
it to him from beginning to end. “Goldie,” he said, forcing a note
of warning into his voice, “I’m waiting.”

She finally looked at him, blinking several
times and wondering how to explain things to him. “I—Well, y’see,
Big...last night, Uncle Asa drank too much at the—”

“I knew it! I knew Asa was somehow connected
with this wild idea you’ve come up with! He’s done it again, hasn’t
he, Goldie? Done something that has made the villagers hate him,
and now these people are taking it out on
you
! It’s always
been that way! He makes the trouble, and
you
pay for it!
He—”

“Big, settle down. I haven’t even
explained—”

“You’re taking so long to do it, I’m
imagining the rest!”

Slowly, she swirled her finger in the soft
dirt by her feet. “All right. Uncle Asa drank too much at the
village saloon—I mean
pub
. Did y’know that’s what these
English villagers call their saloon?”

Big laid his forehead on his bent knees and
prayed for patience. “Your reasons for needing this Royal Tremayne
fellow?”

She realized she’d just have to come out
with it. “Well, Uncle Asa got fallin’-down drunk last night, and
some of the men threw him out of the pub. Uncle Asa worked himself
into a snortin’ rage and told ’em a pack of lies.”

Big raised his head and stiffened. “Such
as?”

She fiddled with a gold ringlet before
answering. “He told the men that when we first got here to England,
we went to London and met Duke Tremayne himself, and that we
introduced ourselves as Delia Mae’s family from America. He said
that when the duke learned who we were, he entertained us in his
town house for a few days and promised us his assistance if we ever
need it.”

“Lord,” Big whispered.

Goldie picked up another yellow curl,
watching it twist around her finger as if by its own volition.
“Then Uncle Asa swore to the men that he was gonna tell the duke
about the way he was bein’ treated here in Hallensham. Said it
wouldn’t surprise him a bit if the duke came and demanded the
villagers treat us with more respect. He even said the duke was
sweet on me, and that if anyone could get him to come back, I
could. Great day. Miss Agnes, imagine a duke bein’ sweet on
me
!”

“Oh, Lord.”

Goldie nodded and watched her piglet, Runt,
come waddling toward her. She scratched his pink hairy ears,
smiling when he grunted with contentment. “Uncle Asa’s lies
wouldn’t have been so bad if the men hadn’t halfway believed ’em.
But they
did
.”

Big closed his eyes, dread skidding down his
spine. “And why did they halfway believe him?”

“Well, y’see, Aunt Delia used to be the cook
at that Ravenhurst mansion up there.”

She paused, her gaze sweeping up the grassy
hill and settling on the awesome manor house. Though she’d stared
at it almost continuously since arriving in Hallensham, its
grandeur still made her breath catch in her throat.

It was a castle in her eyes, a home fit for
royalty. It even had towers, the kind in which princesses in
distress waited for rescuing knights on white chargers. She let out
a small sigh.

“Goldie?”

She looked blankly at Big. “Uh...Yeah. That
mansion up there belongs to Duke Tremayne, and he’s called the Duke
of Ravenhurst. I read that in Aunt Delia’s diaries. And accordin’
to Aunt Delia, she used to spoil the puddin’ out of him when he was
a little boy. She loved him, and he loved her. I messed up real bad
by readin’ that part of her diaries to Uncle Asa. He remembered it,
and that’s why he told the villagers what he told ’em. That’s why
they gave him the benefit of the doubt, too. Seems folks around
here remember how close the duke and Aunt Delia used to be, and
since Uncle Asa went on about how hospitable the duke was when he
learned we were related to Delia Mae, the lies made some sense to
the men.”

“Lord, Lord,” Big repeated, shaking his head
in his hands.

Goldie fed a few dandelion leaves to Runt
and tossed the rest of the flowers into the breeze. “So now the
villagers think Uncle Asa and I know the duke personally, and they
want us to get him to come here to Hallensham. And they threatened
to run Uncle Asa out of town if they find out he was lyin’. Said
they didn’t want any dishonest, drunken troublemakers in their
peaceful village. And y’know if Uncle Asa goes, I go too. I—He—I
know he’s gruff sometimes, Big, but only when he’s drunk.”

“Which is most of the time,” Big
muttered.

Goldie bent her head and struggled to forget
hurtful memories. “He paid your way to come over here with us.”

“With money he stole!”

“Big, he’s the only real family I’ve got. I
know he’s not a saint, but—He—I love him.”

Big tried to calm himself. “I know you do,
and such love is rare, Goldie Mae,” he said, taking her hand. “Now,
back to Aunt Delia and Royal Tremayne, if you please. Tell me—”

“Shhh!” she hushed him when she saw a
dark-haired, buxom girl approaching, her round hips swaying. “It’s
Dora Mashburn.”

“Lord, I hate that girl,” Big whispered,
frowning. “She’s been mean to you ever since we got here, and
I...”

“G’ mornin’, Goldie,” Dora said, ignoring
Big. “Wot are ya still doin’ in Hallensham? The whole village is
talkin’ about how yer uncle said yer goin’ ter bring back Lord
Tremayne. Why ain’t ya already left ter get him?”

Goldie bristled at the gleam of animosity in
Dora’s eyes and the patronizing tone of her voice. “Mornin’, Dora,”
she said, and didn’t bother to comment on the rest of what the girl
had said.

Dora smiled. “Some’s sayin’ they’re sure ya
can bring back the duke, and they’re already plannin’ a village
festival fer when he arrives. Others only
hope
ye’ll bring
him back. The rest o’ us are positive yer Uncle Asa be lyin’. Lord
Tremayne’s been gone fer twenty years, an’ he ain’t never comin’
back here, I vow. Asa Mae ain’t nothin’ but a bleedin’ drunk, an’
the two o’ ya should go back ter where ya came from. An’ take
him
with ya,” she added, glaring at Big. “Midgets, drunks,
an’ sluts ain’t welcome here in Hallensham, an’ I told Mr. Hutchins
that this mornin’, I did. I told him all about how yer uncle says
yer goin’ ter bring back His Lordship. Mr. Hutchins bein’ the
estate manager an’ all, it’s his business ter know.”

“Pay her no mind, Goldie,” Big said. “She
wants you out of Hallensham because she’s jealous.”

“Jealous!” Dora exploded. “I’m not—”

“Yes, you are,” Big argued. “You’re jealous
that Goldie knows the duke, and you don’t. It infuriates you that
Goldie’s going to be Hallensham’s heroine. You can’t sleep at night
for thinking about the statue the villagers will probably erect in
her honor,” he gushed, too angry to stop himself from elaborating
on all the lies. “You’ve had it in for her ever since that Hutchins
fellow started watching her, and that’s why you call her a slut.
You’re sweet on the man yourself, and when you saw him staring at
Goldie, it almost killed you!”

“Big,” Goldie said, “Mr. Hutchins is not
sweet on me.”

“He bloody well ain’t!” Dora shrieked.

“Goldie, never you mind this shrew,” Big
cooed, and patted Goldie’s hand. “When you bring Mr. Ravenhurst
back, she’ll—”

“Why, ya bloody little bugger!” Dora
screamed. “I’ll have ya know that the duke is me friend from way
back! I used ter play with him! Once he even gave me half his
apple, he did!”

Big laughed. “Then give up, Goldie. Dora
here ate half the duke’s apple twenty years ago. She has more of a
claim on him than you do so let
her
get him back!”

“I almost choked when I heard it said Lord
Tremayne’s got eyes fer ya!” Dora glared at Goldie. “Wot would His
Grace see in ya? Ya don’t even come up ter me shoulder, an’ wot
with yer chest bein’ as flat as it is...ya look like a
child
! There’s nothin’ about ya ter attract a man’s eye,
there ain’t. An’ the only reason why Mr. Hutchins stares at ya is
because he ain’t never seen an uglier girl!”

Big watched Goldie flinch and bring her
knees up to cover her breasts. “Goldie’s perfect in stature!” he
roared, more for Goldie’s sake than Dora’s. “She—”

“Well, o’ course ya’d say that,” Dora said.
“Yer a
midget
! Ye’ll be gone soon, I vow, Goldie Mae. Yer
uncle’s already bein’ watched real careful, he is at that. Aside
from bein’ a drunk, the man’s a thief. He stole Miz Crawton’s pie
from her window, an’—”

“I made her another!” Goldie reminded
her.

“Ten times better than the one Mrs. Crawton
made in the first place!” Big added vehemently.

Dora smirked. “An’ nobody’s fergittin’ the
way the friggin’ sop staggered inter that freshly plowed field the
other day neither! Dancin’ an’ fallin’ all over... He made such a
bleedin’ mess o’ things, the men had ter plow all over again! Lost
a day’s wages, they did, an’ all because o’ yer stinkin’ uncle!
When the duke don’t come, he’ll be tossed out o’ Hallensham on his
bloomin’ arse!”

With that, Dora turned and began to walk
away.

“Oh, yeah?” Big stood and shook his fist at
Dora’s back. “Well, when Goldie brings back His Dukeship, we’ll
just see who has the last laugh, you...you—”

“Great day Miss Agnes, Big, calm down. Dora
doesn’t bother me,” Goldie lied.

Big looked at her, not missing the glint of
hurt in her golden eyes. “I can’t help it, Goldie. It’s the same
old story, over and over again. Asa finds trouble; you suffer for
it. When is the man going to straighten himself out, for God’s
sake? And the way he screams at you all the time! The things he
says to you! It makes me furious. He—”

“Big—”

“Look, Goldie. I just told Dora you’d be
Hallensham’s heroine. Now I want to know just how the hell that bit
of outrageousness will come about. Tell me the whole story about
this Duke Ravenhurst.”

She took heart over his growing willingness
to understand and gave him her most brilliant smile. “All right.
Aunt Delia’s diaries say this duke is the landlord here. All that
land out there? What you can see and even further than that? Well,
he owns all of it. Owns all those farms too. But he hasn’t been
back since his parents died when he was ten. His daddy was killed
in a huntin’ accident, and his mama just sorta wasted away after
that. So his two aunts came and took him to London. But before he
left, he sobbed in Aunt Delia’s lap and told her he’d never come
back here because the memories would make him too sad. He wanted
her to go with him, but she said she just couldn’t leave her home.
That was twenty years ago.”

Big felt impatience rise again when she
paused for a moment to rub her baby pig’s back. “Runt, go away!” he
snapped.

“About five years ago the duke got engaged
to some girl named Angelica Sheridan.” Goldie continued to stroke
Runt. “Aunt Delia wrote that this Angelica came here one day. Duke
Ravenhurst didn’t come with her, but she had one of those lady
companions that rich folks always have. Aunt Delia said the lady
was old and slept all the time. Angelica told everyone here that
she was gonna be the duke’s bride, and that he’d consented to make
Ravenhurst their home. Aunt Delia wrote that he must have really
loved Angelica to agree to that. Aunt Delia and the villagers were
so excited about seein’ their duke again. Anyway, Angelica stayed
on here for a while. Things were kinda run-down, just like they are
now, so she decided to fix up some stuff. She started plantin’ a
huge rose garden. Aunt Delia wrote that the garden was gonna be a
surprise weddin’ present for the duke. Since he hadn’t seen this
place for so long, Angelica wanted it to look real nice for
him.”

Big saw her eyes fill again. “What’s so sad
about a surprise rose garden?”

She gathered her piglet in her arms and held
him as if he were a human infant. “Well, Big,” she sniffled, “on
the very day Angelica finished plantin’ the roses, she fell down
the big staircase inside that mansion and died. She broke her neck.
That lady friend of hers took her body back to London. I reckon the
duke buried her there. That was five years ago, and Aunt Delia
wrote that all those roses Angelica planted up there have never
bloomed. Not a damn one of ’em. Aunt Delia believed the roses won’t
bloom until the duke falls in love again. Oh, Big, isn’t that the
saddest story you’ve ever heard? The poor roses. Poor Angelica. The
poor, poor duke.”

Big watched her tears spill down her
freckled cheeks and onto Runt’s belly. He thought her own plight
was a lot sadder than the duke’s. “Goldie, the man’s obviously
wallowing in money and most likely leads a glittering, carefree
life in London. He probably has other estates and no need
whatsoever to come back to Ravenhurst. And he’s probably already
replaced Angelica Sheridan with another English beauty. A man like
that certainly doesn’t need anyone’s pity.”

“But he loved her, Big. Then he lost
her.”

Big tried to find some sympathy for the man,
failed, and realized he would have to feign it to obtain more
information out of Goldie. “The poor man. The poor, devastated man.
Lord have mercy on the poor, poor, sad man and his poor, bloomless
rose garden.”